A mother sets a baby monitor in her son’s room to monitor his weariness and restlessness, but the camera shows a disturbing movement that makes her blood run cold.

Please relax, dear. Mommy’s here,” I whispered, rocking Elias against my chest. His clenched fists and cries had broken the night for almost 30 minutes.

I had to take my files and laptop from the couch to the dining table and cradle him until he calmed down. Elias finally calmed down when I hummed my husband’s lullaby. He relaxed in my arms as his sobbing turned into hiccups.

I gingerly placed him in his cot and kissed his warm forehead. Softly closing the door, I muttered, “Sleep tight, my love.”

As I proceeded to the kitchen, tiredness hit me like a wall.

“I wish you were here, Leo,” I said, glancing at the coffee machine. “Really miss you.”

One year ago…

I and Leo were informed we couldn’t have kids.

After a long quiet and embrace at the doctor, we decided to travel for joy. Highlights include the Northern Lights in Tromsø, Bangkok’s street food, Grand Canyon dawn, and Paris champagne banquets. I felt odd while organizing a Maldives vacation. An impossible test revealed my pregnancy.

After laughing and crying, we flew home to Charleston, South Carolina, to celebrate with neighbors and friends. Without a family, we were raised in foster care. We were together and would soon have a child.

Leo was a manufacturing regional director. I took a sabbatical from my career after getting my MBA to start something new. I would stay home with the baby while Leo provided.

We planned. Life had its own.

Call That Changed Everything

“Hello, Mia Hollis?”

“Yes? Who’s this?

Ma’am, this is Officer Ramirez. We regret to notify you that your spouse, Leo Hollis, was killed in an automobile accident on Interstate 26 today.

I dropped the phone.

He kissed my swelling belly that morning and promised to return by the weekend. “Just a quick meeting in Greenville,” he said. “You’ll hardly miss me.”

Begged him not to leave. It felt wrong. He laughed and winked as he went, calling me “Mama Bear”.

Seven months pregnant.

The shock of his death made me labor.

Ms. Darla, my neighbor, rushed me to the hospital when I called her. Small and battling, my son Elias was born hours later. He went to the NICU immediately.

The longest days of my life were spent mourning Leo, recovering from childbirth, and watching my frail son battle to breathe in a plastic incubator. Both of us returned home.

A newborn, mortgage, and Leo’s company were my responsibilities.

I was overwhelmed.

Grief to Gritt

Thankfully, Leo trusted me with all business details. I understood the essentials and started working remotely while caring for Elias full-time with Leo’s faithful aide, Brianna.

I could have hired a nanny. God knows I was busy enough. I needed Elias close. He was all I had of Leo. I fed him between Zoom meetings, rocked him during phone conversations, and worked late.

That lasted about a year. I survived, not thrived.

Then bizarre things happened.

Present Day

Elias began wailing loudly and panicking in the middle of the night. I would hurry into his room and find him sweating and looking about like he was shocked.

I initially blamed nightmares. Maybe teething. Nothing felt right. Later, he’d settle down but wake up exhausted and grumpy. He lost interest in toys. His yawns continued after naps. Something felt wrong.

I phoned our pediatrician, Dr. Maddox.

“Don’t worry, Ms. Hollis,” he reassured. Cycles occur in babies. Maybe Elias is adjusting to a new sleep schedule.”

But it’s been nearly two weeks,” I said, biting my lip. He seemed exhausted.”

“These things vary, but it should pass,” he remarked.

Though I nodded, I wasn’t convinced.

I heard quiet chuckling from Elias’ room one day after he napped. First, I smiled, but then I remembered he had no noisy toys and I lived alone.

I froze.

I snuck to the door, pushed it open, and—

Nothing.

Elias, placid but interested, blinked at me from his cradle. Room was silent. I searched the crib, closet, and bathroom but found nothing.

Perhaps I was losing it. Maybe stress and late nights were getting to me.

The next day, it happened again.

Giggle. Move.

Nobody there.

Monitor

I compromised and bought a Wi-Fi baby monitor. Placed it in the nursery corner and waited for Elias to fall asleep. I put up my laptop in the living room and launched the live feed.

Nothing unusual happened for the first several minutes.

Then it moved.

Heart skipped.

Elias shifted and smiled, but he wasn’t looking at the ceiling or crib mobile.

His eyes were on the floor.

And laughing.

Someone or something was in the room.

Blood chilled.

I dropped my coffee and ran down the hall. I turned the doorknob and entered with trembling hands.

There he was.

The Guest

It was neither ghost nor intruder.

Small, scruffy dog cuddled by crib, wagging tail weakly. Despite his matted fur and half-starvation, his eyes were gentle and inquiring.

He whimpered when I entered and hid behind the rocking rocker.

Elias squealed blissfully.

My mind raced to make sense of it. Then I saw the flap in the far corner—the old doggy door we put when Leo and I had Ollie, our beloved golden retriever.

After Ollie died before Elias was born, we moved his old hangout into the nursery. The stress of Leo’s death and Elias’ early delivery made me forget the doggy door.

Whatever his origin, this dog found it.

And Elias.

A New Chapter

I carefully lured the tiny fella out of his hiding place with leftover chicken. After days, he ate. A short check found no collar, and a neighborhood app post got no responses.

A stray. Alone like us.

I bathed him and put him on a lovely blanket beside Elias’ crib that night. I named him Charlie.

After then, Elias changed.

He stopped crying at night. He smiled more. Slept better. To keep Elias calm, I made sure they had peaceful hours, yet the tired kid now smiled.

Charlie gave us peace when we needed it.

This Taught Me

Alone parenting is scary. Exhausting. Unrelenting. Some days you wonder if you’re doing enough.

A stray dog entering through an old flap in the wall to calm your child is an unexpected angel.

Leo is missed daily. However, I know Dad would approve of my actions.

Elias, Charlie, and I aren’t flawless. But it’s loving.

More than enough.